


Catch up, pretty boy

by Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves



Category: Cars (Pixar Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Car Sex, Facials, Francesco being a slut, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, M/M, McQueen being just a salty bottom bitch, Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:35:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28900509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves/pseuds/Needs_to_stop_looking_at_valves
Summary: McQueen is still bitter that he lost the most recent race against Francesco. However, when he sees his car broken down, he's more or less forced to give him a ride. Is he still salty? Yes, but Francesco loves him a good snack.
Relationships: Francesco Bernoulli & Lightning McQueen
Kudos: 13





	Catch up, pretty boy

**Author's Note:**

> This is for @marblescorner on tumblr. Bitch has made some peak human versions of these guys, please check them out!

"It's three syllables, not TEN."

He mumbled. McQueen was just taking a scenic drive down the road. He was competing in the grand prix, and he had just finished today's race. Second place. Right behind that stupid Francesco. Cocky, proud, annoying, you could see why Lightning was a bit salty. Images of the 'ka chow, mcqueen!' Bumper sticker still flashed in his mind. He didn't mind losing (well maybe just a little), but he HATED losing to someone so smug.

"Look, it's fine. The next race isn't till a few days from now, you can avoid him till then."

Right now, he needed to focus on these roads. First day in Japan, and he was a bit out of his element. He was about to make a left, when he suddenly caught a glimpse of something. White smoke. Aka, the tell tale signs of someone’s car breaking down. He slowed it down a bit so he could turn in that direction, sighing. The least he could do was offer some poor guy a ride back to the nearest town. Even if it was at least forty minutes away. He drew closer, and parked it as soon as he saw the vehicle. He got out of the car, and made his way over. It was then he realized, it wasn't an ordinary car. Open wheels, red and green paint, it could only be one person's ride.

"Maybe I can-"

"Hey! McQueen! qui!"

He tried to turn the corner and make it back to his car, but it was too late, he had been spotted. He groaned, and turned around. 

"Francesco. Car troubles?"

"Sfortunatamente, sì. These things happen, even to the pretty ones. No phone signal either, vergogna."

He stepped out of his own car, giving it a rather affectionate pat.

"Sad, no? All because I skipped the last check up. Oh well, you'll be taking Francesco to town, yes?"

McQueen wanted to say no. Really he did. But he was a better person than that, and he groaned, opening the passenger side door. Francesco grinned, nearly strutting into the ride. Mcqueen shut his door, got back into the car, and drove off. Forty minutes, it'd be quick. Hopefully. The silence between them didn't last long, as Francesco kept squirming in his seat.

"What's the matter?"

"These seats. They don't, how you say, feel right? Not leather?"

"No, it's vinyl."

"Pfft, no wonder it makes Francesc uncomfortable. Feels cheap. And these seats are down so low, I forgot I'm taller than you."

Everything had to be about who was better. Who was taller, who had better seats, who had better hair- it was getting annoying. When he FINALLY got himself comfortable, he started to do some primping. Using a pocket mirror, he touched up his hair, and McQueen couldn't help but look. His locks were like chocolate ribbons; smooth and rich looking. He parted a bit from his face, before turning to his lips. He knew this guy moisturized, and the way the lip balm slowly grazed against his supple lips showed that he was picture perfect any time of day.

"I feel bad for your 'Sally'."

"What? Why?"

"You keep staring at Francesco's lip balm, like you've never seen it before. Makes me wonder how well you kiss."

"Hey, I kiss her just fine, thank you."

"Prove it."

Francesco grinned at him, in the same lips that issued him a challenge the day before. McQueen struggled to find a response, before Francesco tossed his head back in laughter. 

"Ah ha! sei troppo carino, McQueen! You're a handsome man, don't be so tense. You'll get wrinkles."

McQueen grumbled, rubbing his face a little bit in hopes to dispel to the heat in his cheeks. This guy just really loved messing with him, and it really got under his skin. His body was flushed in warmth, and he was so sick of it. He checked the GPS. Thirty more minutes. Dammit. Francesco put his mirror away in his suit, before leaning his face against his propped up arm, looking outside. Good, he could keep himself distracted all by-

"You always handle your wheel so, how you say, roughly?"

"Listen, when we take a drive in YOUR car, you can drive how YOU want.

"Aye, così irritato. I'm just saying, you're going to scuff your wheel."

"And I'M saying, I didn't ask."

Francesco scoffed, as if he was personally offended. Good, maybe for ONCE he'd shut up and-

"Is this about Francesco winning yesterday?"

McQueen didn't respond, and that was good enough of an answer as any. Francesco laughed, combing his fingers through his mane of hair.

"Oh, what a sore loser! McQueen mad that Francesco is so fast!"

"No I'm mad that you're SO annoying."

Francesco rested his chin on the back of his hand, elbow resting on the island in the middle of them.

"So meschino!"

With his free hand, he playfully ran his fingers through the side of his hair, chuckling as it flopped right back down. His hand was so...soft. It was enough to freak him out, and pull over to some random patch of land. Twenty minutes in, and he was so done with this guy. He turned off the car, and turned to glare at him. The Italian man just sat there, and SMIRKED.

"Whatever the hell you're doing, knock it off. I'm literally SO done with you. So done. If you don't wipe that smug look off your face, I'm going to kick you out of my car, I'm going to leave you on the side of the road, and I'm gonna-"

McQueen could NOT stop. He was going to unleash fury on this absolute smug Italian. That was when his chin was grabbed, and his lips were smothered against his. There was a moment of panic, realizing what was happening. He was getting kissed by this guy. He was paralyzed, even when the other pulled away, licking his lips.

"Gustoso~....so angry, McQueen. It's not even really about the race, is it?"

Francesco crawled past the island, putting his weight against his seat, and essentially trapping McQueen in his chair. Those cherry flavored lips curled into a sly smirk.

"Francesco knows what this is. He's been through this before. But you are the most stubborn. Don't worry, Francesco knows how to deal with someone so...eccitato."

His hand lightly cupped his chin, until it roamed downward, right to his jacket zipper. McQueen was about to push him away, but it was too late; the zipper had been brought all the way down. Francesco wasted no time; hand sliding down his front, and after rubbing and massaging him through the suit, he eventually pulled out his cock. Francesco pouted, clicking his tongue, the same way you would upon seeing a dirty, stray kitten.

"So hard already, McQueen? Francesco hates the thought of teasing you for so long."

Francesco kept stroking his cock, and everytime McQueen tried to say something, they'd be silenced by more kisses. Francesco chuckled, running his hands through those blond locks.

"You handle SO well, McQueen. Not your first ride, is it?"

"Hey, hey, I don't-"

His head tossed back upon feeling Francesco lightly grip onto his balls. It was a delicate, yet firm touch, and it made Francesco purse his lips (right after he smeared more lip gloss all over his chin and neck).

"Or maybe it is….hmm. Francesco can't tell. McQueen is liking this though, no?"

"Don't look so goddamn smug."

"Francesco just looks good, not Francesco's fault."

He shot him a wink, and McQueen hated how his cock twitched upon seeing it. He hated how hard he was right now. Hated the fact that he REALLY liked the feel of that cherry lip balm. McQueen felt his lips on his again, but instead of taking it, he finally acted upon it. By grabbing a fistful of his hair, and pulling his face away. He was going to give him a piece of his mind. That is, he would’ve, had Francesco not thrown his head back, and moaned. He shot McQueen such a sultry grin,he swore his heart stopped for a second.

"Oooh….little McQueen wants to play with Francesco. Francesco likes to play games~"

Francesco moved past the island, now sitting right on his lap. McQueen was no toy car, but this guy felt heavy against his own smaller frame. He took McQueen's hand away from his hair, showering it in kisses and looking at him rather lovingly. It was weird, but he could tell it was just a means to get under his skin. Mainly because he put his finger right against his tongue, making him pull his hand away from him rather quickly. 

"You're disgusting."

"Francesco knows you mean 'sexy', is okay."

Francesco pulled his zipper down, revealing his darkened arms. He had a red shirt underneath his suit, and it was firm fitting on his frame. Too fitting. McQueen could see all the curves of his frame. Nice, big chest that was only teased by his exposed collar bone. Francesco dug into his suit, pulling out his cock. He cupped both of their gerths together, pumping them both, and making McQueen's punch to his shoulder weak. Francesco seemed to purr as his hand kept going, making a slick sound, thanks to McQueen's pre cum. He kept his face against the other's, studying the frustration in his eyes. Even as his cock was throbbing against his own, McQueen looked as if he wanted to punch his lights out. Cute.

"Francesco didn't know you were such a parte inferiore."

"I don't speak Italian, but I feel like you're insulting me."

His voice was husky as he said this, and Francesco couldn't help himself. 

"A bottom. McQueen is a bottom, who just let's men like Francesco have their way with him. While he just TAKES it."

McQueen shouldn't have liked how he leaned down to bite his lip, shouldn't have liked how his thumb lightly pushed down on both of their tips. He huffed, before reaching his hand into his hair again, and giving another firm pull. It made the bigger man moan blissfully, body leaned right against him and chin resting at his shoulder. Francesco's hand only kept at it faster, both of their cocks pulsing and rubbing at each other. Francesco lightly tugged at his ear with his teeth, giggling like an absolute slut. And McQueen wanted more of it. More of those slutty sounds, more of his teeth on him, and more chances to pull at his stupid, soft hair.

"Cum on Francesco's cock, McQueen~"

It was perverted enough, it was tempting enough, that he obeyed. Head tossed back, back stiffening, and he finally came. Francesco didn't even leave him alone as ribbons of jizz came from him; cooing about how he wanted more of it, cooing about how cute he looked when he was cumming, and even continuing to stroke at both of their cocks. It was so much, McQueen swore he was seeing white. Francesco had been waiting for that apparently, because he suddenly had McQueen laying down. Before he could even question what was happening, Francesco's dick was right up on his face, and he had a face full of cum. Francesco held him down with his body, and had his cock rubbing cum over his features. His head was tossed back the whole time, grin huge as he fell into bliss. Once he calmed down, he looked down at a still bitter looking McQueen, lightly smacking his cock against his cheek.

"Francesco does belong on top, no?"

Quick as a flash, he pushed McQueen back into the driver's seat, and zipped himself back up like nothing happened. Francesco looked at himself in his little mirror, and after a light comb through of his hair, he looked as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile McQueen sat there, hair ruffled, clothes askew, and spunk littering his face, clothes, and seat. He managed to zip himself up, and get the mess off of his face, before there was a knock at his window.

It was news reporters. McQueen looked at Francesco, and he assured his suspensions almost immediately. 

"Francesco updated his twitter before we stopped. Likes to let his fans know where he is."

McQueen was about to just floor it, before Francesco rolled down the window. Francesco waved, ever adoring the camera. One of the press held a microphone towards him, clearly eager to get a question from him.

"Francesco! Can we ask what you are doing in McQueen's car?"

"Francesco's car is, how you say, broken? McQueen was just being so dolce and offering him a ride."

"We thought you and McQueen hated each other?"

McQueen, with one hand covering his face, piped up.

"I hate him. I definitely hate him."

Francesco laughed, head thrown back, before he gave a dismissive wave.

"He's kidding. No, Francesco doesn't hate the McQueen. He's just mad that Francesco will forever be on top."

McQueen finally rolled up the window, blocking their view. He grabbed at his shirt, yanking him right to his face.

"I HATE you."

Francesco kissed at his nose, smirk at his face.

"And you're handsome~"

Something told McQueen that this wouldn't be the only time Francesco would get under his skin.

Or his pants.


End file.
